Author Information
hermanita
There she laid, in the black pools of her eyes as her future sped on
Irretrievable
Words calm her as much as a trembling cup to a drowned mans lips
I won’t see her like this
A wilted flower not yet in blossom
Plucked and retrieved to be laid under glass and questioned for its being
She’s much too young for such questions
She’s much too vivacious to be this drawn
Like a tight drum that’s beat upon by life’s brutish hands
How if I could take her, cup her visage and lay it in a light
Free from her being, mind undrawn
To see her petals quiver under the unyielding ray of self expression
And bloom as she should.
That I would finally see her happy.
Truly happy.
